Who Wants to Live Forever?
by Molly1
Summary: Sequel to The Forgotten Past. Sarah and Jareth's emotional return to the Underground.
1. Forever

Who Wants to Live Forever? 

Chapter One 

* * * * * * * * "There's no time for us. There's no place for us. What is this thing that builds our dreams, yet tips away from us?" * * * * * * * * 

"Jareth!" the voice was insistent, though so very weak. 

It followed him as he awakened from the dream, the one that had plagued his mind for three long months already, and had driven quite a few hours of sleep away over the course of that time. However, still he continued to push aside the unnerving pictures that his imagination produced, when he dwelled on the strange nightmares for too long. 

This time, he awakened with that voice echoing through the simple room, as if someone had been beside him, ready to speak to him. Jareth wiped a shaking hand across his face, drawing off fine beads of sweat that had formed during the duration of the night. 

It would have been all right, and perhaps he would have even ignored this one as he had done with countless other strange experiences that presented themselves so very often as of lately. However, there had been something about the voice that was familiar, and yet he could not place it. Jareth knew that one day it would come to him, but as he laid in the sweaty, uncomfortable bed the answer evaded his tired mind. 

"Sarah?" Jareth asked carefully, glancing over to the other side of the bed, mostly due to instinct. 

He had known already that she was not there. She could not sleep beside him anymore with the constant fits of tossing and turning, and the sudden yells that would burst from him in the midst of a certain horrid aspect of the nightmare. She would be in the nursery, though it could not rightly be called that still. Their baby was nearly six, and approaching his first year in school. The nursery would now, and forever, be labeled as a mere room. 

With a deep, drawn out sigh, Jareth rose to shaking legs and managed to stretch out a few of the kinks that had formed over the restless night. Still he placed a warm smile on his face to mask the tired, and worried gleam that he knew she would see in his eyes. Sarah never missed anything. 

Already the voice was gnawing at his mind, trying to reach into the black depths that the memory had plummeted into since the last time he had experienced it. Yet, all he received for his pains taken to recall all that was forgotten, was a glimpse of something silver, and liquid in its movements. It was nothing that would aid him in the strange mystery concerning the vaguely familiar voice. 

"Sarah?" Jareth asked again, this time directing his voice downstairs, wondering if perhaps she had already opened the shop a bit early that morning. 

There was no sound, and no light downstairs to welcome customers to their friendly little antique shop. Jareth casually rubbed a hand across his face, hoping for better times to come. Yet, it almost felt as if a foreboding air had surrounded their humble home, choking off the oxygen along with any pleasant thoughts that could possibly attempt to survive amidst all the threatening feelings. 

He shivered despite himself and hurried to their son's room. He could not shake the strange sensation of dread that was very nearly overwhelming in its poignancy. The otherworldly fear rose in his stomach, and bristled the hairs along the back of his neck. Once again a shiver worked its way down his spine, even though the hallway was quite warm, especially for early spring. 

"Sarah?" he asked a final time, just outside the door. 

Jareth did not wish to wake them, nor did he wish to worry his love with menial things such as his dreams. Nonetheless, he felt he must see them, if only to assure himself that his family was safe and well, even if they were still sleeping soundly. 

Sleeping soundly.... That was one thing he had not been able to even wish for for quite some time. If he managed to achieve a light, fitful rest, then he would consider himself lucky. Jareth only dreaded the time when he would lay awake for hours, thinking about the dreams that would come, and find himself unable to sleep even for the shortest amount of minutes. 

He touched the door, just enough to allow himself a crack to peer through at the two. Jareth's heart soared at the sight that he beheld. It was true beauty that he witnessed every time he gazed into Sarah's ever youthful face. She was even more radiant with the motherly gleam in her tender chocolate eyes, as she cared for the baby. 

They laid together, on their son's small bed. Sarah herself was curled almost in a fetal position, her arms wrapped around the boy's body. His angelic face was cuddled into her rich hair, which she had cut, only recently, to shoulder length. Jareth smiled at the purity that surrounded them, the perfection that they created when asleep, and nearly felt as if he would weep at the happiness that had finally been bestowed upon him. 

"Jareth!" he heard the voice, but only in the deepest recesses of his troubled mind. 

He could not rid himself of the sound, nor of the urgency that was hidden beneath the simple utterance of his name. Something was horribly wrong, but what that something was evaded him. Jareth did not know if he would ever answer the strange call he felt every night, but the sight of Sarah and his child discouraged him from ever trying it. He did not want to be drawn away from this life, no matter the consequences he might be forced to face nightly. 

"Sleep soundly," he whispered. 

Jareth carefully shut the silent door, and then leaned against the wall beside the room. He had much to think about, and even more to worry about. The dreams would never leave, but the voice could perhaps be driven away by sheer willpower. He had so much to live for, and nothing to win should he drive himself crazy with the pointless worries and fears that circled his mind. 

Still, even as he decided to push aside the pestering thoughts, Jareth found himself helpless to not dwell upon the voice, and what it wanted so urgently. He could not rid himself of the sound, and the way it struck a deep memory, that had become clouded over through the years. Time had a way of doing that. Time could undo many things, and cover many others with sands of forgetfulness. Time, that was the name of the enemy, and that was the name of his greatest fear. 

* * * * * * * * 

Sarah opened her eyes slowly at the sound of her name that she heard somewhere between sleeping and waking. She expected him to be there, in the room, smiling at her as he always did when she tended to oversleep. However, she saw no one, save her son who still slept cradled in her arms. His gentle rhythmic breathing brushed against her face and sent a warm smile to her mouth. Any worries that might have surfaced were quickly pushed aside at the sight of her son. 

"Already six?" she asked herself silently as she gazed at his tender little face. 

Sarah carefully removed one arm from about his back and touched his tiny, freckled nose. A overjoyed smile broke onto his face and he swatted her hand away with a playful laugh. She returned his laughter with her own and hugged him fiercely, as Jareth often did upon returning home after some business with other antique dealers. 

He opened his bright sapphire eyes and gazed up at Sarah with pure adoration and love. Sarah ruffled his golden hair tenderly and then rose from the bed. Her son only laughed a bit more and readied himself to attack her for rubbing his hair. Yet, the time for fun had passed and Sarah quickly rose to her feet and looked down at the grinning child. 

"Tommy, there is a time for everything. Now get changed and don't be late for breakfast," she stated and then kissed him on his forehead. 

Thomas proceeded to wipe at the place she kissed and then smiled sheepishly at Sarah. She only threw her hands up and opened the door, giving her son a single stern glance, that was entirely laced with a happy teasing grin. She then closed the door behind herself and prayed that he would not become distracted as he very often did. 

Sarah allowed the door to return to its frame of its own accord, and turned to hurry into her room, in order to change out of her sweats she had worn to bed the night prior. She stopped in mid stride and gasped, placing a hand over her mouth to stifle the yelp that very nearly flew forth anyway. Her eyes widened and she almost jumped back out of pure startle. 

"Jareth! You-you frightened me!" she declared with a deep breath. 

Jareth only smiled at his wife and then took her hand from before her trembling lips. His palms caressed her skin, as he had done ever since they had been married and even before that. The magic she had always felt surrounding him was dulled, and had gradually weakened over the years that he had been away from the Underground. 

He kissed her hand and then led her from the hallway. Sarah's shock gradually dissipated and she managed a warm, yet entirely suspicious, smile. She never knew what to expect from her King, for she still thought of him as such, no matter where he reigned. He opened their door and then closed it after she had walked within the room that she had not slept in for weeks. 

"Has it been that bad?" Jareth questioned ever so gently as he rubbed her hands tenderly with his own. 

Sarah was puzzled for a brief time by his mysterious inquiry. However, it came to her mind quickly. What else was there that would worry him, or concern him as this subject obviously did. She had left their bed in order to sleep. She had not even attempted to hide from the fact that his tossing and turning had kept her up, and she could not handle it. 

Sarah nodded gravely, if not with a touch of embarrassment as well. She had always adored to fall asleep in Jareth's arms, as if encircled in magic. Yet, now she had left for a bed far too small, in a child's room. Jareth could very well decide for himself that it had been bad, if Sarah had been forced to do all that in order to receive some form of slumber. 

"I fear that I must do something shortly," Jareth remarked, his tone unusually serious and almost frightened. 

Sarah immediately shook her head and jerked her hands from his. She placed them around his body and hugged him with all the love she felt for him. Jareth allowed it, but still did not relax his stiffened body. He merely waited for her to move away and then stared deeply into her eyes. 

Sarah shook her head with a strange abrupt nature that she had not truly allowed out for some time. Her stubbornness had never left, but rather decided to hibernate for a few years as she tried out different attitudes. Now she was determined not to allow any crazy ideas to enter Jareth's mind. He was simply having nightmares, and they could be cured without doing anything that he might have decided to do. 

"We'll bring you to a doctor, if worse comes to worse. Right now I want us to have a normal life, and be a family. Please, Jareth," she begged, gazing at him with hope and pleading. 

Jareth could not deny her a thing. He relented with a sigh and then offered Sarah another smile. It held more of his true nature, teasing and mischievous. She rolled her eyes and rose from the bed, ready to change and begin breakfast. After all, she expected quite a bit of customers for the big sale planned for the antique shop. 

She searched through her packed closet, moving aside blouses, jeans, dresses. As she rummaged through them, Jareth grabbed her about the waist and laid his head against her silken hair. Sarah gasped a bit, but then reached back and stroked his face with a single tender hand. 

"I wish only to fix it, so that you are not off sleeping in another man's bed," Jareth chided as he kissed her cheek with a gentleness she had grown to adore in her husband. 

Sarah only laughed at his joke and playfully fought her way out of his grasp. She turned and looked at her love, and swatted him with the shirt she had found in the mass of other clothes. Sarah then covered her mouth with the sleeve as she fought back a wave of uncontrollable giggles. 

"You, sir, should not be so certain I wish to return to your arms. Why, just today that lovely young man allowed me to kiss him," Sarah remarked and turned back around to fish through the rest of her closet for something else to match what she now held in one hand. 

Jareth stepped away and then casually walked out of the door, leaving Sarah alone to finish readying herself for the day that laid ahead of all of them. It was sure to be busy in the store, and what with running around taking care of Thomas, they would have their hands full. She would soon find herself flustered and quite disorganized. He decided that she could at least start the day in some semblance of order. 

Yet, the moment he left the room and shut the door behind himself, his head swam with dizziness. Jareth stumbled backwards and slammed against the wall, nearly collapsing to the floor in the progress. Sarah gasped in her room, and nearby he could vaguely hear Tommy's footsteps rush out to the small hallway. 

"Daddy!" his son's scream cut through the air as he rushed over to his gasping father. 

Jareth did not hear anymore. He only heard the strange, almost familiar voice in his mind. It repeated the same word again and again, and that one word drove straight into his soul. His heart felt as if it was covered with ice, and his mind drugged and slower than normal. 

"Trouble," the voice struggled over and over in his mind. 

Sarah touched his shoulder, and he could almost feel it, though he knew not who was beside him. He felt like he had been taken out of his home, taken from his family and into some strange oblivion where only he and that voice existed. Yet, he did not fight. He chose to listen to the voice, knowing that this was the only way the endless nightmares would cease. They were trying to tell him something. 

Then his mind cleared, and he blinked his wild mis-matched eyes in shock over the whole experience. He could not believe, and so only managed to mutter something incoherent to both Sarah and his son, who waited in frightened silence. At long last Jareth looked at the both of them and allowed himself a single ragged breath. 

"Jareth?" Sarah asked carefully, almost fearing that he would attack her in his current state. 

Jareth did nothing of the sort. Instead he slid to the ground and then motioned for his family to follow. Tommy quickly crawled into his father's lap, and hugged him about his neck. Jareth could easily feel the warm tears against his skin, and understood that his son had been terribly frightened. He then turned his troubled eyes to Sarah, begging her to help, to aid him in this time of such great need. 

She fell beside him, and even in her eyes there were tears of fear. She swiped them away, but still several slipped gently down her silken cheeks. Jareth reached over and drew her closer, so that she leaned against his shoulder. 

"Do you recall the time I told you that one day we would have to return?" Jareth asked Sarah as he ran a trembling hand through her hair. 

Sarah nodded, though she did not want to remember. She yearned to have forgotten everything. She wanted simply to tell Jareth to go to the doctor, and that they would fix everything. She had a normal life, and wished to remain that way, with Jareth here beside her. However, she did not state any of her arguments, for she knew that this time would come. 

Tommy only watched his parents through a fog of tears. His child's mind formed a thousand possible meanings to his father's words, but none correct. He knew only that Daddy was frightened and Mommy was sad. That was all that really mattered at that time to him. 

Jareth carefully took her hand into his, trying to calm her in this time of such turmoil. The day had not seemed to be one to become so horrid all at once. He offered her a smile, and then rubbed Tommy's back to encourage his son to not worry. He would take care of both of them, forever. 

"That time is now," Jareth whispered, and then looked out the nearby window at the blue sky and the lovely day. 

Chapter Two 

* * * * * * * * There's no chance for us. It's all decided for us. This world has only one sweet moment set aside for us. * * * * * * * * 

Sarah could recall very little as she felt herself torn between worlds, her hands tightening inside of Jareth's. Yet, thoughts of their life, their store, and the sale she had planned, continued to roll about within her mind. It was as if they were not destined to have a normal life, but instead to try to hold together amidst chaos such as this. 

Thomas whimpered at her side, for he was clutched in Jareth's embrace, shielded from the sights that would certainly terrorize such a young boy. Already she could see the familiar surroundings of the Goblin City form before her widened eyes, and cries of joy erupted from all around as the three drew into view. 

Sarah gasped and attempted to ignore the unnerving feeling that had clenched her stomach in a knot. Jareth only draped his arm around her shoulders, and balanced their son carefully in the other. She dared a glance towards her husband, and once again was left to stutter in shock at what she saw. 

Jareth was home, and that was obvious. He had become king the moment he entered into the Underground. His proud and regal features arched elegantly and were only highlighted by the caresses of warm sun overhead. Even in the less than noble attire, he was royal, which left Sarah feeling almost left out of the entire picture. 

"Jareth!" a strange croaking voice, filled with love and pain, overjoyed and despaired. 

The crowds of loyal subjects silenced at the rough voice. They turned in unison towards the shadowed shape, who remained beside the iron gates leading into the massive castle. The scores of figures moved like a wave as they bowed in respect towards this obvious royal leader. 

For the first time Sarah actually looked at the crowd, and understood why she had felt so strange. They had been away only a scant seven years, and already the changes seemed overwhelming. Not a single grotesque, deformed goblin resided in the crowd. All that met her wondering gaze were peasant faces, ranging from all ages. There were now only people inhabiting the Goblin City. 

The next instant Jareth dropped her hand, and she was left alone, with Thomas hiding against her leg. She placed a tender hand on her son's trembling back, but could not speak a word to comfort him. For her eyes remained upon Jareth, as he strode defiantly up the stone steps, and towards the person who had addressed him a short time earlier. 

"You are the King again," Sarah muttered beneath her breath, and wiped a single tear away from her shimmering chestnut eyes. 

Jareth paused before the shadows that blocked his view of the Queen. Yet, he did not hesitate in a show of respect, for she was his superior at that moment. Jareth dropped to one knee and bowed deeply in her presence, feeling humbled and slightly hurt for being a guest at his own castle. 

Yet, there was no laughter from the crowd, no jeers towards this man who seemed so entirely proud of himself. Instead there was a shocked gasp that echoed through the multitude and swept even to the very woman he had bowed before. They were all awed that the legendary Goblin King should be so meek. It was not as they had learned. 

"Rise, Jareth. I did not ask you here to grovel at my feet," the voice strained in a hoarse whisper. 

His flashing gaze fixed on the emerald sparkle that had shone within the darkness. Those eyes, strange and feral, were so very different from what he had remembered. They were no longer strong, powerful, nor did they belong to a woman who had nearly bested him in the skills of magic. His entire body went cold as she was brought into the harsh sunlight. 

Her hair, the lovely mane of liquid silver, had all but disappeared. All that remained was drawn up into a tight bun to disguise the loss. Robes of the finest material could not hide her emaciated body, that seemed so very old when compared to the youthful woman he had seen first emerge from the enchanted garden. Even her cat-like eyes were nearing death. They no longer shone, and he could see that the magic that once rushed through her very veins, was now gone. It was Cyria who stood before him, but it was not. 

"My God," he remarked as he dared a single step closer to the ancient queen. 

She walked only with the help of two servants. They were both sturdy young men, and both considered quite a catch in the city. Yet, the eyes of all, including those that had admired these men, were fixed on the two royal legends, finally face to face. Cyria, and Jareth the Goblin King, stood speechless. 

Cyria raised one shaking hand out from the folds of her loveliest robe, she had chosen just for the occasion, and gradually brought it to the King's shoulder. Jareth watched it all, still too much in shock to attempt to speak to this woman. Instead she chose to state his own surprise, and added a trembling smile to ease his nerves. 

"Jareth, there is much to say, and my time is so very short," with that said Cyria commanded the men to lead her back inside and pointed at the royal guards to disperse the crowd. 

Jareth found that he could not move to follow his old friend. Instead he looked back towards Sarah, and to his son. Both were struck with the same silence that had plagued Jareth, and both could not manage to move to allow the crowd to pass by. Yet, in their gaze they shared the most profound speech, one that passed their thoughts to each other's mind. All feared the worst. 

* * * * * * * * 

"I took the liberties of reversing the spell upon all the goblins. Life amongst the cretins was quite unbearable, especially at my old age," Cyria allowed a dry cackle to escape her cracked lips. 

Jareth did not find the mirth in her statement, but managed an attempt at a smile, just for Cyria's expense. However, the queen easily saw through his false front and waved a shaking hand to dismiss the act. She did not have time for such pleasantries. This was a time to speak, and learn, and tell Jareth what she knew would soon happen. 

Cyria simply folded her wrinkled, old hands in her lap and then fixed her dulled eyes on the still youthful king. She had planned this meeting for some time. She had gone over what to say, and what to do, and when to break the overwhelming news that still circled around within her aged mind. However, it all seemed far too rehearsed, and she threw aside the script before continuing. 

"I will first ask you a simple question, both of you," Cyria turned to acknowledge Sarah and then looked back to Jareth, "Who wants to live forever?" 

The inquiry startled Sarah and she found that she could not answer. Yet, it was not a question that was directed to the woman, but rather to the King. Jareth seemed not touched by it, and he took a deep breath in thought. Cyria urged him silently to hurry with his debate, for time was very precious at that moment. 

"You and I shall live forever, Cyria. Within the Underground Sarah and my son shall do so, as well," he remarked, though it was not quite an answer to the original question. 

This response brought a slight smile to the old queen's face. She nodded and then turned to look at Sarah. Obviously she meant to address Jareth's significant other at that point. She fixed Sarah with her gaze and then flicked her green eyes back over to Jareth, but only momentarily. 

At long last Cyria pointed to herself, and her aged appearance. A sarcastic laugh, dry as the other had been, burst from her weak body, and she doubled over slightly afterwards. Sarah leapt from her seat in an attempt to help the woman, but Cyria pushed her aside. She simply straightened herself and then pointed again at her own old body. 

"Do I appear as if I am going to live forever?" Cyria asked, and then folded her hands on her lap once again, waiting for the reality to sink in. 

Both Sarah and Jareth glanced at each other, wondering what the other was thinking at that very moment. However, only the shortest glimpse did they allow themselves. The next instant Jareth turned back to Cyria and caught the queen's attention. There was something that she was not telling them, and he was curious as to what this all had to do with them. 

Cyria coughed a few times, doubling over in her chair as she did so. Once again the two were given quite a fright, for the queen appeared as frail as a dried twig, and near her breaking point. Her face reappeared from behind her hands as an ashen shade of gray, devoid of all hues of life. She could only look from one to the other, her entire aura sickly and old. 

"I grow tired, but I wish to introduce someone that will answer so much more," Cyria stated with another series of coughs. 

A man cleared his throat from the entrance to the queen's sitting room. All eyes turned to this mysterious guest, dressed entirely in a brilliant navy robe, that shone as moondust would, if anyone was able to hold a sample of the amazing substance in one's hands. The guest seemed almost to float above the ground, only scant centimeters, for the illusion of walking was near to perfect, yet there was never a single hitch to his movement. It was all too liquid to include steps. The robe barely dragged over the stone floor, hiding his feet altogether. 

Cyria smiled and reached out with a single withered hand. She had suffered from the 'shaking disease', one that all the healers, and mystics in the Underground knew not how to cure. She had simply accepted it as old age, though she had never experienced such inconvenience before. Her hand barely obeyed her forceful mind, shivering like a dry leaf blowing in a powerful wind the whole time she held it out for the unknown man to take upon entering. 

He was trained well, and took her trembling hand into his own, and kissed it out of respect for his queen. He then bowed, doing so with surprising grace, despite the bulky robe that he wore. The man then stood, and observed the other two in the room with a scrutinizing glance. 

"Jareth, Sarah, meet my most trusted advisor, and the eldest mystic in the Underground. He has educated me about what shall befall me, as well as you, in the years to come," Cyria remarked. 

She truly seemed tired, for her voice had only barely been over a murmur. Her emerald eyes fluttered between half open, and entirely shut, before she managed to pull the velveteen, ruby ribbon that was strung down from directly beside her throne. Cyria leaned her head back and closed her worn eyes, waiting for her servants to guide her to her room. 

Jareth stood from the luxuriant plush chair that had been brought to him and quickly bowed before the queen. Whether she appreciated it or not, he had been taught time and again to show respect, and would always be a nobleman, no matter if he was king or not. 

Cyria did not even see, or perhaps simply did not notice the handsome Goblin King as he genuflected before her. For her eyes only briefly flipped open, and that one time they fixed on Sarah, and held her gaze for a few scant moments. It was as if she was trying to console her. Even in the short time Sarah was able to see the supreme sadness that had overtaken the Queen's eyes, and understood that there were very few days remaining in which Cyria would be part of the living. 

Then the two young men, nobles perhaps, guided the Queen from the splendid sitting room. The door closed behind them, though none made a move to close it, and Jareth had yet to use magic since coming to the Underground. All eyes turned to the stranger, who still regarded them with the same faceless stare. 

Sarah fidgeted in her chair, suffering under the unnerving gaze of this ancient mystic. She turned her eyes to Jareth, begging him to break the spell that seemed to hold the entire room in the grip of nervous silence. 

"I fear that I do not know you, sir, and if I did...my memory escapes me," Jareth stated, trying to sound as he did when he had been king and was to address his minions. 

The robed man turned to look at Jareth and then moved his pale, ageless hands to the rim of his wide hood. It seemed as if time stood still for years, just as this strange figure made as to show himself. Sarah's breath caught in her throat, and she would have surely gasped to regain her breathing, had it not been for the flick of movement as the man pulled the hood away to reveal his face. 

"Does my name still evade you, King Jareth?" the ancient voice inquired. 

The man that stood before him bore a face that was so entirely beautiful, but also indiscernible. The moment one would turn away it seemed as if the features were entirely forgotten. He had jet black hair, swept back in a ponytail that cascaded down his back, and under the robe. His eyes were as green as Cyria's, but appeared almost changing in the light of the afternoon sun. The features were very feline, like it was a panther that had revealed himself and not a magician. 

Jareth looked at the man, and tried to recall where this face had shown itself before. There had been a time, and there had been a place, but now he simply drew a blank. Jareth shook his regal head in response to the question and waited patiently for the answer. All the while the handsome mystic regarded Jareth with a kind of scorn, and perhaps respect as well. 

"It does not matter, for my business here is brief. I come to tell you simply what my Queen requires and then shall away to my chambers. She had requested my presence here upon her passing," the man responded and then turned to look out the window. 

Jareth reached over and caught Sarah's hand, as they waited to hear the bit of news that would most certainly change their lives. The wait seemed unbearable, as if the mere stress that it caused would inflict more harm than the actual revelation. Sarah gripped Jareth's hand as if it where a lifesaver, and she was drowning in a sea of the unknown. 

At long last the man turned, and his eyes flashed to those as black as jet. He seemed as if he had become the cat he looked so very much like, and soon the panther within his soul would jump forth and rip Sarah and Jareth, treating them as his prey. However, he simply smiled, showing canines that seemed very much like those of a cat, and the grin itself held a predatory menace. 

"The Queen will die shortly. She has not another day in her. Then the kingdom will require a ruler, one that it has already chosen, one that will be granted with eternal life," the man's eyes flashed again, as if lightning had begun and a storm would soon rage in his emotions. 

The look only succeeded in frightening Sarah to a greater extent. Yet, also, she recalled Cyria asking a certain question that had to do with eternal life, or eternal youth. Now she herself had an inquiry as to Jareth's age, or perhaps Cyria's. The entire course of events had taken a surprising turn. 

Jareth dropped her hand, and left his wife to flounder helplessly in her dreadful sea. Yet, he had to confront this being, and prove that no matter what was said he would face it like a king, and proudly. He had royal blood, and had ruled many a year in the Underground. He stopped before the magician, standing a good foot taller than this mysterious stranger. 

"Who has been chosen as the new ruler. Surely you did not come merely to tell us that Cyria is dying," Jareth urged him to hurry along with his news. 

The magician smiled once again, showing rows of white, yet pointed teeth. The glint of sunlight flashed across them, and sparkled in his eyes, which had now changed to a strange gray shade. He gestured and produced a perfect crystal in his hands, spinning it much the same as Jareth once had. 

"The crystals shall chose the next ruler of the Underground!" the magician stated as he tossed the lovely orb into the air. 

Sarah watched as it floated there for the shortest amount of time and then fell, but rather floated, to a level even with Jareth's waist. It then hovered there, spinning like a top to produce a misty picture within it's magical depths. Jareth bent down beside it, in awe at the perfection that had been displayed with this magical performance. 

The ancient magician only grinned and turned from the scene to gaze out into the Underground. He had only a few short minutes to wait for the final figure to form inside the orb. Only then there would be gasps, surprise, horror, emotions ranging to each side of the spectrum. It would be a lovely display, and he would be there for it all. One thing he knew, the Underground chose as it wanted, not as others would wish. It was unfortunate. 

"What is this trickery?" Jareth asked, tearing his eyes away from the crystal and straightened up to his full height. 

The magician did not turn, but allowed his smile to broaden. He would not be foolish enough to insight Jareth's rage, for there had been tales told of the raw power that flowed through the legendary king's veins. With enough anger it was said that even the most ancient and powerful sorcerers would fall victim to his magic. This time was not an acceptation, even though the old King had dwelled on mortal soil for so very long. 

Jareth very well might have forced an answer from the magician, had it not been for the shrill scream that rocked his very soul. Sarah had leapt from her chair, amidst muttering groans and sobs of uncontrollable fear. Jareth paused in his anger, and turned, to grab his love as she rushed to his arms, all the while pointing in hysterics at the floating crystal only inches away from the couple. 

Simply her reaction and the horrified glint in her eyes offered him enough proof to understand that what he would see within the crystal would not be anything enjoyable. Nonetheless, he turned his mis-matched eyes to gaze upon the magical orb, and the new-found king that was shown at long last. 

"It cannot be!" Jareth exclaimed, dread seeping into his near dead voice. 

Behind him Jareth knew that the ancient one was smiling, and would seem like some beast ready to attack at any moment. However, the magician was the least of his worries at that instant. Sarah still wept uncontrollably into his shoulder, and now he was forced to face the truth that the crystal held. 

"It is the way the Underground has chosen. You know as well, if not better, my lord, that one must not question the decision of the land," the magician stated as he approached the sombre couple. 

Sarah reached out with one shaking hand, almost the same as Cyria's had been, and grabbed the crystal from the air. It shone a brilliant blue, as if angered that she had disturbed it while it hovered in the air. Yet, Sarah did not care, nor did she truly notice the awesome color change. With a cry as primal as that of the tiger, she threw the orb against the stone wall, and watched the pieces shatter and disappear into nothingness. 

She then pushed away from Jareth, her eyes flitting around the throne room, and then finally finding those of the ageless magician. Sarah pointed one trembling finger in his direction and then dared a few frightened steps forward. 

"Change this! I will not accept it! You cannot have him!" Sarah demanded, though her voice held the tell-tale signs of oncoming tears. 

The magician could only shrug in response to her commands. He had nothing to do with the newly found king, only was called upon to present it. Cyria very well could have done it herself, had the three come maybe even a few months earlier. Yet, they had finally happened into the Underground on the day when the queen would most certainly pass to the otherworld. 

Sarah placed her accusing hand over her mouth and turned to Jareth. He could only nod in solemn silence, confirming her most horrid thoughts. Sarah's eyes shone with tears that soon trickled down her lovely cheeks. She looked from one man to the other, suddenly not able to discern either of them. Sarah shook her head in absolute horror and backed away. 

"Sarah, please," Jareth called after her, breaking his silence. 

"I will not have my son placed in this land! I will not have him face the same trials and damned existence as you did! We're going home!" Sarah responded in a determined yet weakened voice. 

With that she rushed from the room, in search of her beloved son. The crystal had shone him, perhaps ten years older, but Sarah could easily distinguish the face. Now she could only think of what the magician had told them about eternal life. Could it be that her son would live forever in this land where fantasies live, but dreams die? 

Jareth watched his wife rush from his sight, and then turned to look at the ancient mystic who still remained in the room. There was nothing to say, for he knew the law of the Underground all too well. There was no way to argue, and no point to fight. It was best to accept and move on with life. However, he could not tell Sarah that without inciting her rage. She still had so much more to learn, and there were countless things left to understand. 

"I believe you should visit the queen, Jareth. You and your family should see her. I fear that Cyria has declined quite rapidly, and shall be here for only a short time," the man stated and then pulled his hood back over his face. 

Immediately the magician's features were bathed in shadows, and he seemed faceless as before. Jareth only nodded in response, and turned to leave the throne room. There was much to do, and even more to prepare. As Cyria had said, time was short. He had never felt more pressure, and never heard the constant tick of the clock quite so loudly. 

Jareth paused in midstride and turned to face the mysterious man, whose name had since then avoided his mind. A peculiar smile crossed his features as the past came back in the form of a wave, crashing down upon him. 

"Flagg. I remember you at long last, and shall not forget again. Do not doubt the knowledge and strength of my son, for he shall know you as well, and understand the true beast that hides behind the mask of man," Jareth said ominously, and turned to leave once again. 

Flagg only watched the old king with a twinkle touching his dead eyes. They knew much, but understood little. Time would soon run out, as sand through the hourglass. Shortly the old reign would be gone, as the old blood faded to oblivion, leaving fresh meat for him to prey upon. 


	2. The End is Only the Beginning

Chapter Four  
  
* * * * * * * *  
Touch my tears,  
with your lips.  
Touch my world,  
with your fingertips.  
* * * * * * * *  
  
  
A young prince's childhood is brief, to say the very least. For, they must at once  
be taught the ways of the kingdom that shall one day be theirs. In Thomas' case, he had  
but ten years to comprehend the ways of magic, and harness its wild, tricky aspects. In  
addition to that horridly difficult practice, he had the normal duties to attend to as well.   
For there was much to understand about the Underground and the subjects he was to rule.  
  
Jareth himself had only known magic, and nothing else, when he took control of  
the throne. He had been thrown, floundering into the title of King, only to fight his way  
back to the top. All in all, the entire struggle had not been something he would ever wish  
for his son.  
  
Jareth paused and glanced back at Thomas. They had been in the Underground for  
only a year, not truly long enough to even call it home, and already it had affected them  
all. The magical atmosphere seemed to enhance appearance, and offered a slight tinge of  
regal attributes to all who dwelled within its wondrous boundaries.  
  
His son, for instance, had taken to dressing in the finely crafted, silk and velvet,  
clothes that had been specially made by expert seamstresses. The attire certainly made the  
young seven-year old seem more mature, in appearance and actions. Childhood was done,  
and the lessons had only just begun.  
  
"Come to me Thomas," Jareth called and motioned for the prince to rush to his  
side.  
  
Tommy did as he was commanded, and even waited patiently for his father to  
address him. No longer did he adhere to certain strange rules that seemed to apply to  
young children. They were not discouraged from running about, playing, dirtying their  
clothes in soil and mud. None of those things held much interest for Thomas any longer,  
though he occasionally regretted the fact that he would never experience the joy of having  
a good friend.  
  
Jareth pointed to the large, well kept stables directly ahead of them, and instantly  
Thomas' eyes brightened. He had always adored horses, and had even gone for a ride or  
two on his mother's sweet mare, by the name of Tripix. The horse had been brought  
along when the three had come to the Underground. Now Tommy had dozens of horses  
that would one day be his, and only his.  
  
"Are we going to ride today, Father?" Thomas asked, his voice nearly bubbling  
over with excitement.  
  
Jareth nodded in response and then continued to walk to the stables. He was no  
longer Daddy, as he had been only a few months earlier. Tommy had decided, by himself,  
that the title seemed too babyish, and then had taken to addressing his parents as Father  
and Mother. Only when in times of great pain or anguish did he resort back to the terms  
of baby days.  
  
Jareth truly adored the time he was able to spend with his son. However, at every  
instant he could hear the eternal ticking of a clock, as time wound down. He could only  
guess what his and Sarah's destiny would be, once Tommy was crowned the king of the  
Underground. He could only hope that fate would be kind and grant their family a chance  
to be together, at least for a while.  
  
"Today you shall see the many distant realms of the kingdom. Places that will  
soon forget you, if you chose to ignore them, and life will go on just the same no matter  
what you do. Most of the time the royalty becomes but a character in some phony tales  
that are crafted by bored teenagers," Jareth stated, placing a gloved hand on the arched  
neck of his trusted black steed.  
  
The horse allowed a deep calm breath to pass over Jareth's arm, and rested his  
head down so that the king might stroke it. Jareth simply ran his hand over the wide  
forehead, pushing aside the forelock in the process.   
  
Thomas watched his father closely, taking in all that he did, and the way he  
performed the most simple tasks with an air of dignity. Jareth was someone he would  
always consider bigger than life. If asked how he knew his father was perfect, Tommy  
would simply say that he was king, and everything a king did was flawless. So, it made  
sense to deduce that the entire character of his father was perfect.  
  
"Don't dawdle," Jareth scolded as he mounted and quickly drew the reins from the  
stable boy, who had since then been meekly holding both horses.  
  
Tommy was startled, but mounted with some struggling. He had not become as  
graceful as his father. However, he was quite shorter, and the horse was just so very tall.   
Tommy groaned as he gathered the reins up, and managed to nearly tangle them together.   
He had much to learn, and was constantly reminded as he witnessed just how much he  
messed up.  
  
Already his father had urged the gallant black stallion to trot away from the  
comforting stable, and Tommy had only just gotten control of his horse. He was only able  
to rush out of the castle grounds, and found that Jareth was no where to be seen. Tommy  
allowed a sigh to escape his mouth and gradually turned the steed about to head home.   
There would be much punishment later on.  
  
* * * * * * * *  
  
"Don't be so hard on the boy, Jareth. He's just learning," Sarah's soft, but  
determined voice drifted out of the open door.  
  
Thomas sat, curled in the shadows, just down the hallway. There had been Hell to  
pay when Jareth had returned, angered that his son had not attempted to follow, or keep  
up, or even call out to wait a moment while he gathered himself together. His father had  
stormed home, and had nearly taken his rage out on Thomas. His mother had grabbed  
Jareth aside at that time, and led him to the room, where they now talked.  
  
The voices raised another octave, and soon would be near the yelling decibel.   
Tommy hugged his legs tighter against his chest and wiped away a few tear drops as they  
traced wet trails down his cheeks. He bit his lip to keep the sobs inside, and silent. All he  
needed now was to be discovered and face a larger punishment on top of the other he  
would receive shortly.  
  
"You don't understand, Sarah. He is to be king!" Jareth roared.  
  
"No! I suppose I would not know about this, but neither does he. Do you expect  
him to be perfect after a short year of half-hearted training?" she asked, trying to keep  
herself calm.  
  
Jareth paused in the lazy orange glow offered by a near torch, that was hung in a  
rusted metal cup on the stone wall. The fire cast highlights across the King's noble face,  
and accentuated the anger that had overwhelmed him that night. Sarah, however, would  
not be frightened, she stood tall and proud beside the bed.  
  
After what seemed like an eternity of silence, Jareth relented. His dignified stance  
fell and he promptly sat upon the bed. He placed his head into his hands, trying  
desperately to ignore the nagging headache that would shortly be transformed into a  
migraine.  
  
"He is just a boy, but the boy will be king and then will not be able to ask what is  
right and what is wrong. Sarah, I understand that you are protective, but he shall be hurt  
worse after we can no longer stand at his side," Jareth explained.  
  
He did not look up, but could hear the gentle sobs coming from the other side of  
the room. Sarah had once again been struck by the loss of her child. Tommy would soon  
be King, and then his life would revolve around the Underground. Jareth and she had no  
clue as to their futures, but she had not been hopeful.  
  
With a sigh, Jareth rose to his feet and grasped Sarah about her waist, holding her  
close to him as she cried. Her entire body shuddered with the tears and the gasps for air  
that she struggled to gather through her hitching throat. Jareth too could feel the  
overwhelming somberness that seemed to cover the castle, but forced a smile on his face  
and then nudged her chin up, so that they might look eye to eye.  
  
"I shall always be here for you, my love," Jareth stated.  
  
Sarah managed a shaking smile to reply to his kind words and then pressed her  
trembling lips to his. With a gentleness that felt almost like butterflies brushing her  
cheeks, he kissed her tears away and then returned her passion.   
  
"And you will forever be my king," Sarah stated as she wrapped her arms around  
his neck.  
  
Out in the hallway, Tommy crept further and further away. He did not want to be  
noticed, and the fight had ended. He was relieved to know that his father would not  
punish him, for Thomas had never meant any harm. His parent's door shut, echoing  
through the bleak hallway. With a single glance down towards the room, and the eerily lit  
passage, cast with flitting orange illumination, Tommy rushed into his room and closed the  
door.  
  
* * * * * * * *  
  
Thomas thrust his sword forward, forgetting the vulnerable position in which he  
had managed to place himself. He felt the tap on the back of his neck, cold metal that  
could very easily had killed him, had it not been blunted. He bit back the foul language  
that immediately rose to mind and tossed his weapon to the ground. This had been the  
fifth time in a row, and the losses were becoming quite monotonous.  
  
"Do you understand what has been done wrong?" the deep accented voice  
questioned from behind him.  
  
Thomas nodded, but could not help but feel anger towards his instructor. There  
was never any easy lesson, and never could he receive some form of a handicap, when his  
inexperience was considered. No, Thomas was simply required to know all at the moment  
it was taught, and become the expert a few short minutes after.  
  
The tip of the sword touched his back once again, and Thomas reached back to  
snatch it away. He did not feel up to participating in these studies about swordmanship  
any longer. He did not know a time when the art would be needed, for he was to be king,  
and the king had soldiers to protect his castle. Thomas did not feel that he should have to  
stoop so low as to be forced to fight.  
  
"This training tires me," Thomas bit the words out and then turned to look at the  
man behind him, yet no one was there.  
  
Now his sword was tossed through the air, and plummeted to the ground. It stuck  
the pile of old, yellowed leaves, right before Thomas' feet. These tiresome tricks were  
pointless, and quite annoying to say the least. However, the adolescent reached down and  
retrieved the sword. It would not be wise to deny the King's wishes.  
  
"Ready yourself, Thomas," Jareth stated as he strode before his son.  
  
Thomas sighed, and then found himself taking up the proper stance. Yet, all the  
while, he could feel a dull pain in his arm, for he was not used to holding a sword for such  
a long period of time. Actually, he had not ever truly fought with a sword before.   
  
Jareth struck his son in the shoulder, just with enough force to draw the boy's  
mind back to the practice. All he received in return was a scowl, and Thomas went  
forward, fighting with anger and not thinking about the hazards in which he would soon  
place himself.  
  
"When will this lesson be over?" Thomas questioned through clenched teeth.  
  
Jareth's eyes darkened at the rude attitude that had overtaken his son. With a snap  
of his wrist, Thomas' sword flew through the air, leaving the boy vulnerable. Jareth  
quickly knocked him off balance and then pushed the sword to his son's throat.  
  
"The lesson is done, and you are dead," Jareth stated seriously, and then  
resheathed the sword as he offered Thomas a hand.  
  
The boy refused the help and instead struggled to his own feet, though his ankle  
ached from the fall he had taken. It was sure to be swollen shortly and bruised by the next  
day. Yet, Jareth would not take it easy, even with the injury Thomas had sustained. They  
would be out early, and Jareth would be prepared to teach all new lessons, and perhaps try  
to tune up his son's poor sword skills.  
  
Jareth mounted his horse and then waited, impatiently, for Thomas to gather his  
weapon and catch up. It seemed as if his son was always behind, always lagging in one  
way or another. However, Jareth could only expect the best, for if he did not, then it  
could be quite costly in the end. Thomas would soon understand that this all was for his  
own benefit.  
  
"You must take these lessons seriously, Thomas!" Jareth called to his boy.  
  
Thomas replied with a slurred word, but Jareth chose to ignore it. Thomas had  
acquired his mother's stubbornness, and what with being fifteen, he was in his rebellious  
years. Unfortunately, Tommy did not have time to live as any normal teenager would. He  
was considered an adult, and so would adhere to the adult world. After all, in only a  
single short year he would be crowned the king of the Underground, and no longer would  
Jareth be able to help.  
  
Thomas swung himself into the saddle and then walked up to his father. He did  
not grant Jareth with a single word, but instead continued on into the forest, and towards  
the castle. Lessons would be over for the day. They ended an hour before supper, so that  
there was time to reach the table before all the food had been thrown to the dogs.  
  
"Wait!" Jareth called.  
  
Thomas stopped, truly upset at the entire day and the way it had transformed into  
such a damn, annoying, useless.... he could go on and on. However, Tommy turned  
around and noticed that Jareth had yet to move from the spot in which he now stood.   
Usually it was Thomas who was forced to rush to catch up to his quickly disappearing  
father.  
  
A strange foreign expression had overcome Jareth's features. His lively, sparkling  
eyes had dulled considerably and seemed almost as if they were only chunks of colored  
stone. His mouth was set, and his gaze fixed on something in the near distance. For he  
searched through the thick foliage with quick sweeping glances.  
  
"What is it this time, father?" Thomas inquired, as he reluctantly approached  
Jareth.  
  
However, the Goblin King did not speak. Instead he dismounted, leaving his horse  
to graze as he wandered through the overgrown forest. Thomas had only enough time to  
jump to the ground, as his father disappeared behind a surprisingly thick clump of berry  
bushes.   
  
The boy cringed at the sight of those awful plants. The vines were covered in  
viscous thorns, that would certainly jump out for any flesh that should pass nearby.   
Nonetheless, he could not simply leave and not expect some form of punishment. It was  
best to risk the thorns and discover just what had caught his father's attention.  
  
"Father! Oh, damnit!" Thomas yelped as a thorn scratched across his face, and  
another brutally attacked his hand.  
  
A fine trail of crimson blood trickled down his cheek, as if Thomas was crying  
tears of the substance. He wiped it away carelessly, but only succeeded in smearing the  
life-giving substance over his cheek. It did not matter, for his mind was still set on the  
direction his father had taken. After all, Tommy had seen Jareth enter, but now there was  
no sign of any other soul, other than the boy himself.  
  
Then, almost taking Thomas by surprise, the forest was cleared away. He broke  
through to a path, one that had been maintained surprisingly well, which certainly was an  
oddity in the Underground. He did not dwell long on the road, for Thomas caught sight  
of his father, just ducking under another series of vines that had grown over some strange  
stone structure, that almost resembled a broken-down wall.  
  
"Father!" Thomas called again, but still received no answer.  
  
He rushed to the section of wall that Jareth had disappeared through and followed  
right behind. The moment he found himself inside, whatever it was that the dilapidated  
wall surrounded, his breath caught in his throat.   
  
It was a town, all destroyed for quite some time. However, Thomas could easily  
see the massive stone remnants of a grand mansion that sat right at the head of the society.   
There were even a few wooden homes that half-stood. A wondrous fountain stood in the  
center of the weed choked road, that ran through the middle of the village. Perhaps that  
had been where the marketplace was held on certain days. Thomas stood in awe at the  
ruins, his mouth slack and his eyes widened.  
  
"Does it interest you?" a soft voice asked from behind him.  
  
Thomas jumped in surprise. He had not heard anyone sneak behind him during the  
entire time he had been admiring the village. He twisted about and offered Jareth a sly  
grin. This had certainly been a great treat, for Thomas had always been interested in the  
past. The village appeared to be hundreds of years old.  
  
"It is amazing," Thomas replied, still too awe-struck to say anymore.  
  
"It was my home," Jareth stated and then walked towards the destroyed mansion.  
  
Thomas watched, his shock portrayed through the expression that had plastered  
itself to his face. He could not understand why, if this had been his father's home, had it  
been allowed to be left to the forest, to become nothing more than ruins. Why would  
Jareth ever wish to let his house fall apart, and what could have happened to everyone  
who had once lived there? Thomas was overcome with questions.  
  
Yet, Jareth did not ever address his son. He merely touched the one remaining  
side of his childhood home. Even the ruins sang of a life that had been joyful, happy,  
merry, and innocent. It had been a far better existence than eternity within the confines of  
the corrupting castle. He silently wished he had never come, but knew that Thomas  
should hear the tale and understand the price of one's actions.  
  
"What happened here?" Thomas questioned, walking over to an object that had  
glimmered when hit by the sun's rays.  
  
The young prince sifted aside piles of old leaves, some corroded, while others still  
fresh with brilliant hues of reds and oranges. Beneath nature, shone a slightly tarnished  
silver mirror. The glass had been cracked nearly in two, and had shattered a bit in the  
middle, but it was still quite a find.  
  
"I did it," Jareth stated bluntly.  
  
Thomas jerked his head over to face his father, and very nearly dropped the  
antique mirror. His hand felt weak, and he only caught the artifact with quick reflexes and  
quite a bit of luck. Jareth offered his son a sobering look and then glanced all around  
himself, at all he had caused.  
  
"I was not aware of the horrid side-effects that my actions would have. This is the  
outcome of my ruling the Underground," Jareth smiled as he thought about his life that  
had been anything but perfect.  
  
Thomas was silent. He could not think of a single thing that would add to the  
conversation. Instead he turned the mirror around in his hands and then promptly placed  
it back on the ground. It was best to leave it in the place of carnage, for nothing here was  
free of blood. Thomas could suddenly feel all the death, and not the strange serenity that  
had originally drifted to his senses.  
  
He broke into a sprint and raced beneath the hole in the wall, to the open forest.   
Even to touch the place would feel like a sin. It was a place of murder, of deceit,  
treachery, and more than anything else, evil. He wiped his hand across his face, trying to  
calm his nerves and gather his wits before Jareth reappeared beyond the village walls.  
  
A tender hand fell on Thomas' shoulder, and he gladly let his father comfort him.   
He might have been a man in the Underground standards, but his entire being wanted to  
only be treated as he might have at the age of five, held and consoled.  
  
"I understand," Thomas stated, "I understand, I understand."  
  
He could only find those two words, and repeated them again and again. All the  
while Jareth waited at his son's side, for his calm demeanor to set back in. After long last  
Thomas managed to look into Jareth's face and smiled, though his face was drained of any  
and all color.  
  
He reached back and unsheathed his sword, taking up the natural fencing stance,  
and then signaling for his father to do the same. Jareth was surprised, to say the least, for  
Thomas had seemed to hate swordplay with a passion. However, he produced his sword  
and then nodded to his son that it was time for the lessons to begin again.  
  
Thomas cleared his mind and then sliced his sword through the air. Time and  
again Jareth easily blocked, and returned with his own fancy moves that had been  
practiced to perfection through the many years. However, Jareth could feel his youth  
slipping away, and knew well that he had lost a bit of his usual grace and speed.  
  
"You're slowing down, father," Thomas chided as he surged forward with  
renewed strength and speed.  
  
"Yes, but I still know a few things that you have yet to learn," Jareth replied with a  
grin and twisted his sword around his son's.  
  
Thomas suddenly found himself without protection, as his sword flew through the  
air. Jareth offered his son a smile and then thrust forward with his sword. However, the  
prince leapt backwards and tumbled down to gather his lost fencing foil. He grabbed it  
and quickly turned to face the amused king.  
  
Jareth jumped down, and then continued with the game, for no longer was it a  
lesson. Thomas had natural skill, and used it to his advantage. With a sudden sharp blow,  
Jareth's sword clattered to the ground and Jareth managed to only stumble backwards  
against a nearby tree.  
  
"Lesson over," Thomas said as he touched his father's neck with the blunted  
sword, "You are dead."  
  
The final words seemed to hang in the air and sent shivers down both of their  
spines. However, Jareth smiled and clapped his son on the back. Perhaps Thomas would  
be a king yet.  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter Five  
  
* * * * * * * *  
And we can have forever.  
And we can love forever.  
Forever is our today!  
* * * * * * * *  
  
  
The coronation of Thomas was filled with pride and joy, and masked tears.   
Crowds of onlookers watched in awe as the prince walked to the throne, that had been  
moved to the grand hall just for the occasion. The crown of gold and jewels was placed  
atop his head, and Jareth (the great Goblin King himself) stepped aside for his son to take  
the throne. It was a new reign, a fresh beginning, and youthful ideals.   
  
However, all in attendence had to admit that Thomas was the exact image of his  
father. The young man was tall and slender, and truly handsome. His blonde hair shone  
with a gleaming quality that put even the most pure gold to shame. Even his eyes, though  
not of two different colors, were as deep and intoxicating as Jareth's were. Thomas sat  
proudly in his throne, respledent in a jet leather vest that had been adorned with golden  
medals. He wore a silken, flowing shirt, the color of midnight. Then, around his  
shoulders, a cape made especially for this ceremony, that had been inlaid with magical  
designs that were crafted from delicate silver threading. He was the king, and not a single  
one could deny that fact.  
  
It was followed by a ball, truly magnificent in its overhwelming splendor.   
Countless young woman, mostly of noble blood, came in hopes of receiving a dance with  
the handsome young King. All knew that the time would come soon when he would  
choose a wife, and surely every available lady dreamed that she would be the one to catch  
Thomas' eye.  
  
The ceremonies lasted far into the early morning, and Thomas himself was not able  
to relax until the sun had begun to peak over the mountain range in the far East. He was  
exhausted, but a certain thrill of excitement still rushed through his entire body at the mere  
thought of ruling the Underground. He was in charge, and he had the power to command  
all to do what he thought best. It was overwhelming.  
  
He slept, but only fitfully. For his sleep was plagued with dreams of doom and  
death. They seemed out of place, considering that happiness that had engulfed the entire  
coronation. However, the nightmares continued until Thomas finally arose from bed and  
struggled to change, despite the grumpy nature the lack of sleep had placed upon him.  
  
A series of loud knocks on his door came shortly later, and did not help to brighten  
Thomas' mood. Surely the searvants would understand that, since he had yet to leave his  
room, then he would not want to be disturbed. However, the persistent noise continued  
and finally, with a sigh, Thomas threw the door open.  
  
"I certainly hope....," Thomas stopped in the midst of his sentence as he looked at  
the robed figure before him.  
  
The person wore a hood over his or her head. Thomas could not quite tell what  
the gender might be, for the entire outfit was bulky and dark. Yet, the figure lifted its face  
and then pulled back the hood, revealing the mystery.   
  
A man stood there, with dark hair, as black as the night, that hung down beneath  
his robe. His face was quite strange, for Thomas almost believed that he had seen the man  
before, but could not remember a thing about his features. He waited a moment for the  
stranger to introduce himself, and when there was only silence, made to shut the door on  
the rude person.  
  
"My King, forgive my rudeness, but you bear such a likeness to your father, that I  
truly believed I had stopped at the wrong room," the strange man stated quickly and  
grasped the door to prevent Thomas from closing it.  
  
Thomas was tempted to still shut this man out, but hesitated a moment too long.   
Obviously the stranger took the open door as an invatation to enter into the room, and  
then bowed deeply in respect to the king. Thomas only closed the door and crossed his  
arms over his chest. This was all quite interesting, but he wished only to know the name  
of this new man.  
  
"I returned to see the new king. You must understand Thomas, that I was once  
Queen Cyria's most trusted council. I was called simply Flagg in those times, and have  
chosen to keep the quaint title. I wish to offer my services to you, considering that a new  
ruler could have quite a few instances of confusion, and what with Jareth leaving....,"the  
magician paused, feigning shock at having spoken something Thomas was not to know.  
  
The young King's calm, if not irritated, attitude broke to that of surprise at what  
this Flagg had said. He rushed forward and gripped Flagg by the robe that he had worn  
since the dawn of time. A light of fear, only slightly overshadowed by that of anger,  
dawned in Thomas' eyes and he took a single deep breath.  
  
"Tell me about Jareth's departure!"  
  
* * * * * * * *  
  
"Father! I must speak to you!" Thomas demanded as he caught sight of Jareth  
leaning against the throne and gazing out the nearby window.  
  
Jareth turned his attention to his son and offered the young man a strained smile.   
There was no point in adding fear to the obvious anger that had overcome the new King.   
Jareth straightened himself and then offered Thomas a slight bow of respect, and then rose  
to look at the white palor of his son's face.  
  
Thomas could only sputter for a short time, as he tried to gather his thoughts  
together. It was like attempting to gather pieces of a puzzle and form them together so  
that they might create a whole, something he could understand. Even as the picture  
flashed in completion, Thomas feared what it revealed to him, and he could only pray that  
he had misunderstood what he had been told.  
  
"Tell me truthfully, are you to leave me this very day? You have never told me  
anything of the sort," Thomas declared.  
  
Jareth looked at his son for such a very long time, his eyes saddened and somewhat  
dulled. Thomas could easily remember a time when he had seen such an expression, and  
that had been when Cyria had died. Now his own father, so very old and no longer  
needed as the king of the Underground, appeared as if his life was drawing to an end as  
well.  
  
Jareth finally turned to look back out the window, and towards the distant horizon  
where the forests end and only flat soil remained. It was there that his mind now  
wandered as his son was faced with the largest burden of his life, how to say goodbye.   
  
"Do you see that vast place, where no tree dares to dwell and the sun's rays beat  
down upon the sand? It seems sometimes that millions of crystals, shattered and sprayed  
across the land are out there, when the light strikes just perfectly. I once ventured out  
there, just to see what it was that had always shone with such intensity. When, after long  
last I arrived, I found nothing, and had decided that the entire trip was for naught.   
However, I did happen across something that stood all alone, in the middle of sand as far  
as the eye could see. It was a single Peach tree, ailing and near dead, and struggling to  
survive in the poor conditions. On it's withered branches was a single ripened fruit, that  
was truly the most lush peach I ever saw," Jareth paused in his story and allowed a sigh to  
escape his lips.  
  
Thomas collapsed to the throne and turned his own eyes out towards the lands that  
had so attracted his father's curiousity. However, it had held nothing but death, according  
to Jareth. Yet, the entire tale did not seem to hold any form of an answer to the question  
he had originally asked when first entering the room. Perhaps Jareth simply wanted to  
avoid the entire question, and the tale was his way of doing so.  
  
After a pause of some ten or fifteen seconds, Jareth continued on with his story,  
still gazing out of the window.  
  
"I plucked the single remained fruit, the only living thing from the tree and then  
made to eat it. However, something stopped me, and I decided that it was not meant to  
be this way. So, instead, I took the pit from the center of the peach, and buried it near it's  
father, the old tree that had been a pioneer in that wasteland, and then left the place to  
itself."  
  
Jareth turned to his son, and took Thomas by surprise. The young man had not  
expected the tale to end so very abruptly. He still could not make any sense of the strange  
story, and he could only hope that Jareth would explain the relationship it had to anything  
that mattered.  
  
The old King realized that his son was lost as to a meaning. He allowed a smile,  
only a ghost of the usual seductive grin that had once graced Jareth's handsome face, to  
cross his features. There was so much that Thomas still had to learn, but all he would  
have to do alone. Time had run down, and now Jareth simply existed on borrowed  
moments.  
  
"You don't hear what I'm trying to tell you, Thomas. This is the answer to your  
question, if you would allow your mind to open a bit, just to allow some of the light to  
enter. We consider death the end, where nothing else shall follow. The peach tree did die,  
and was nevermore seen on this world, but from it came a life. The end is only the  
beginning, my son. One day, venture to that land, and see what lies within its bouderies,"  
Jareth commanded and then patted Thomas' shoulder with fatherly love.  
  
Jareth sighed yet again, and offered the land of nothing one more backwards  
glance. He would leave his son alone with his own thoughts for the time being. Soon  
Thomas would face the adult world, something that he had only caught glimpes of before,  
and all the while had been under the proective wing of his father.   
  
With a shaking smile the great king, who had now stepped down from his throne,  
in order for Thomas to claim the rule of the kingdom, walked out of the throne room. It  
had been his for hudreds of years, far too long, and now he would never re-enter the place  
that had signified his leadership, and his rule as the infamous Goblin King.  
  
* * * * * * * *  
  
Sarah sat on her bed with a book laid out on her lap. The story had not been  
meant for her, for she had never found much of a plot in picture books. However, the  
young child, barely three, who now had drifted off to sleep, had enjoyed every last page.   
Sarah ran her hand through the girl's thick chestnut hair and touched her soft angelic face  
tenderly.  
  
"Sleep well, my sweet," Sarah stated and kissed the child's soft cheek.  
  
The little girl only made a single movement in reponse to her mother's departure.   
She did not waken, and Sarah breathed a sigh of relief for that small gift. She was utterly  
exhausted, and wished only to go to sleep for several days. However, a single night of  
unbroken slumber would do quite nicely.  
  
She stopped at the doorway to her room, and nearly gasped at the ghostly sight  
that stood before the window. Jareth gazed out into the sky, the moonlight highlighted his  
features, and gave a strange eerieness to his calm face. He turned at the sound of his wife  
entering the room and offered her the most serene smile she had ever seen upon his face.  
  
"You frightened me," Sarah remarked and then quickly closed the door behind  
herself, so as not to wake their sleeping child in the next room.  
  
Jareth left the window and walked, so very slowly, over to his wife. There was  
something about him that night, something that was not quite right. Sarah could not put  
her finger on it, but the change frightened her nonetheless. She would not tell him though,  
for Jareth seemed in particularly good spirits that night. It was far different from the  
somber attitude he had been enveloped by as of lately.  
  
Jareth wrapped his arms around her and kissed her tenderly, releasing so many  
emotions in that moment that Sarah was barely able to stay on her feet. Tears suddenly  
sprang into her eyes, though she had no idea why she should be sad. She had already  
accepted their son's fate as king, and the fact that he was now immortal. Yet, she weeped  
into Jareth's shoulder.  
  
"I feel such peace tonight, Sarah," Jareth whispered, patting her back with the  
same gentleness that he used on their daughter.  
  
Sarah turned her tear-stained face to look at her husband and the almost holy light  
that surrounded him. It was the moon, she understood that, but something about it made  
everything so very ethereal. She touched his caring face just to assure herself that this was  
Jareth, and not some strange apparation that had come to pose as her husband.  
  
He took her hand into his and kissed it. The kiss sent a shiver down her spine and  
Sarah could once again feel the magical aura surrounding Jareth. It had been quite some  
time since she had lest felt this raw energy that was held within his body. However, now,  
it almost felt stronger, more powerful than ever, and she loved it. It felt as if she was held  
by the magic, instead of Jareth.  
  
"I love you," Sarah whispered as she closed her eyes and simply adored the feeling  
of being together with him.  
  
"Forever," Jareth said and brushed his face against her thick chestnut hair.  
  
They went together to their bed, and shared their love that night, as the crystal  
moon hung overhead in the dark velvet sky. The tender white illumination that was cast  
by the moon played over the room, and sent a spell of pure magical illusions all around.  
  
Later, as Sarah slept soundly by Jareth's side, he thought about his life, and about  
the castle that was no longer his. He dwelled on the time he had been king, and the  
countless children that had been turned into horrid little goblins at his hands. However, at  
that hour of the night nothing seemed important. It was as if all the wrongs he had  
committed were suddenly swept away, and his slate was clean once again, for all of  
eternity.  
  
* * * * * * * *  
  
Thomas slept, though he did not do so silently. His slumber was attacked by  
countless nightmares that portrayed all he had ever feared. He witnessed deaths of those  
close to him, and destruction of the entire Underground. He felt as if his entire world had  
simly fallen down around him, and he was helpless to stop it. He had no control, and that  
was another lesson he had finally learned.  
  
Yet, in his mind he heard a voice, one so full of power, but also covered in love. It  
was his father, soothing him through the horrid dreams, and taking Thomas into a sleep  
that no longer attacked his mind. He was free to rest, and do so comfortably.   
  
When he yearned to thank his father, Thomas already knew that it was too late, for  
the voice had left while he sank into sweet oblivion. It had only helped him that one night,  
and could not take all the reality of life away forever. Thomas understood that he would  
now be in charge, and that now he would face everything and be forced to decide with his  
own mind.  
  
As the young King finally found rest, a clock somewhere, in some hallway, or  
some corridor, perhaps in an empty room, or the grand one in the throne room, or all at  
once...began to chime the thirteenth hour.   
  
Several villagers who dwelled in the former Goblin City awakened at the sound of  
the thirteen chimes. It was said that the weather suddenly turned cold as ice, and a wind  
whipped through the streets, but only for a moment. All who experienced the strange  
phenomenon agreed that it had occured at the same time, thirteen o'clock.  
  
And in the castle, as the final chime of the thirteenth hour rang through the  
sleeping hallways, echoing on and on, the mighty Jareth, who had become a legend during  
the time he had ruled as Goblin King, died peacefully in his sleep.  
  
  
  
  
Chapter Six  
  
* * * * * * * *  
Who wants to live forever?  
Forever is our today.  
Who waits forever anyway?  
* * * * * * * *  
  
Thomas stood before the two gravestones, so very perfect in the creation, for he  
had called upon the finest mason to craft both. One was aged ten years, and the other  
fresh. The dirt had been only just softened down upon the newer of the two, for the  
funeral services had takan place that afternoon, beneath a cold grey sky.  
  
The King managed a slight smile, though he truly did not wish to pretend that joy  
was something in his body. He was but twenty-six and could feel his maturing had  
stopped. He had not changed for two years already, and believed that any other aging  
would be insignificant. This was his age, twenty-six, for the rest of his life.  
  
"I am so very lost, and there is much chaos in the Underground," Thomas stated to  
the elder of the two graves.  
  
Buried beneath the modest headstone was his father, the former Goblin King.   
Jareth had been right, that being king was difficult, and ruling without help was near to  
impossible. There had been so many mistakes that Thomas had made, and he felt as if  
there would soon be war between some of the rebelling groups. What little control  
Thomas had had, was now gone.  
  
Life had seemed unbearable after Jareth's death. His mother had nearly gone  
hysterical as she realized her one true love was gone forever. She had locked herself away  
in her room for a good month, refusing to eat anything, save a single meal a day and drank  
only at that time as well. She wept uncontrollably, and soon, when all sounds had fallen  
away from the room, many speculated that she had died.  
  
However, shortly later Sarah had emerged from the room, quite thin and ragged in  
appearance, but she had her normal personality back. She was, also, pregnant, and only a  
month along. Many told Sarah that she was not thinking properly, and that she could not   
possibly be only a month, for that would date the conception back to the night the former  
king had died.  
  
The child, a boy which she named Jareth, had been born precisely nine months, to  
the day, from the night his father had died. The child was a compete mix of both parents.   
He had his father's golden locks, but Sarah's deep chocolate eyes. The child was recieved  
with celebration, for many believed it to be a sign, that a part of Jareth had returned with  
the child, and the prince would one day be a great leader, if not a king.  
  
Thomas went on with life, struggling to gain respect in a world where so many  
considered him far too young. Most of his advisors felt that they ruled the kingdom, and  
tried to take control, but Thomas was stronger than they had believed. He was witty and  
intelligent, and stubborn above all else. He was his father's son, and was determined to be  
a good king.  
  
A year later, when Thomas had finally turned eighteen and could call himself an  
adult, the kingdom seemed to be in top condition. All was peaceful, and there had not  
been a problem for over a month. It seemed that at that time, things could not go wrong.  
  
Thomas soon fell in love with a young lady, who was the daughter of a serveant.   
Her name was Lily, and she had captured the King's heart. Though the relationship was  
frowned upon, Thomas would not lose his love. He would surely have left the kingdom  
before allowing the girl to leave him. It was soon accepted by most of his subjects, and  
the two were married shortly later.  
  
However, things soon took a turn for the worse. A horrible outbreak of a viscous  
strain of influenza struck the castle, and the surrounding village that had once been called  
the Goblin City. Lily came down with the flu, and thier infant son soon contacted it.   
Though Lily came through, Thomas' son died shortly later, and the kingdom mourned for  
the loss of the heir.  
  
Thomas' sister, then seven, was soon betrothed to a distant prince in a land  
bordering the Underground. He hoped that the marriage would settle the stormy  
situations between the two kingdoms, but knew that his sister would not be sent there for  
a good eight years, and that was ample time for a war to begin.  
  
On young Jareth's eighth birthday, Sarah succumbed to a illness that was unknown  
by any of the physicians and mystics from all corners of the Underground. They knew  
only that she was terribly weak, and her health was failing quickly. She raged with a fever  
for several days, until it would break, only to return again to attack her weakened body.   
The family knew that it would only be so long before Sarah would pass away.  
  
During the two years in which Sarah's condition worsened, the Underground fell  
into dark times. Thomas could not think, and knew that he was making poor decisions.   
Taxes were raised, and hundreds went homeless and hungry as a result. Shortly later  
bands of rebels formed and planned to drive Thomas away, and set a new king on the  
throne. Thomas silently wished that he ruled over goblins, like his father had, and that his  
magic was more powerful. However, neither dream came true.  
  
There was one time, Thomas could remember in perfect detail, when he had  
walked into Sarah's room to speak to her. Many had believed that she would die that  
night, for her body raged with a fever and she had begun to hallucinate and speak in  
strange dialects.  
  
"Mother?" Thomas had asked as he approached her tossing figure in the bed.  
  
Sarah had not noticed him, but instead continued with her ranting and violent  
movements. Her face had been ashen and covered in a fine sheen of sweat. Her once  
deep thoughtful eyes, rolled wildly about, as she was consumed by the disease.   
  
"Jareth!" she shouted suddenly, between the snatches of moans and incoherent  
words.  
  
Thomas startled at the name and immediately bent in closer to his mother. Sarah  
had stopped her movements for the time being and turned to look at her son, as if he had  
only just happened in. In reality the King had been by her bed for a good half hour, just  
watching the disease take its toll.   
  
"My son, why do you come to see me in this state?" she asked, tears forming in  
her reddened eyes and slipping slowly down her cheeks.  
  
Thomas could think of nothing to say, so he took her clammy hand into his and  
patted it ever so gently. Sarah closed her eyes and laid back agaist her pillows, resting  
calmly for the first time in weeks. Even the fever, that had been so very high that Thomas  
could feel the heat radiating off of her as he sat by the bed, was lowered considerably.  
  
She snapped her eyes back open and fixed her gaze on her still silent son. Sarah  
managed a smile and then took her hand from his. She did not need him to worry so, for  
this was not the end. It was only the beginning.  
  
"Your father came to me, and told me that my suffering is nearly over. I felt so  
peaceful when he looked down at me, almost as if I was in heaven. He said that you have  
forgotten all he taught you, and what he told you the final time you two spoke. Then, he  
kissed me, and I felt the magic all around him as I had before. Tommy, I miss him so, and  
I know that soon I will be with him forever," another tear rolled down her sunken cheeks  
as she stopped her speach and looked at her son.  
  
Thomas smiled and rose to his feet. It was time to leave. He would not admit  
how much his mother's words had affected him for some time. However, even as he  
stood in her room he knew that the strange rolling feeling in his stomach was brought on  
by what she had said. All he knew was that he needed to be away, and he turned to leave  
after kissing her forehead and bidding her a good rest.  
  
As he walked from the door Sarah's sweet voice drifted to him. She was humming  
a song she had once heard during her years on Earth. It was an enchanting melody, but so  
very sad. Thomas paused and listened to the tune raise and fall with her voice.  
  
"Forever is our today....Who waits forever anyway?"  
  
That was all he heard of the song, for the next moment Thomas closed the door  
and drudged back to his throne. A month later Sarah died, and was laid to rest in a grave  
beside Jareth's. They would be together, as Sarah had said, in the afterlife. A love as true  
as theirs was not to be seperated for such a long time.  
  
Thomas ran a single finger over Sarah's gravestone and then managed a smile. He  
had asked the mason to write a special inscription on it, so that all who would ever see the  
two graves would have a hint as to how special the love had been. Written in fine cursive,  
flowing letters, at the bottom of the headstone was the single phrase Thomas had heard his  
mother sing.  
  
"Forever is our today," he whispered and then rose back to his feet, carelessly  
wiping away the dirt that had found its way to his knees.  
  
Overhead thunder rumbled, warning of an oncoming storm. It was the first in  
quite some time. As a matter of fact, Thomas had only seen one other instance of poor  
weather in the whole time he lived in the Underground. It was rare, but he thought  
nothing of it. Most of his mind was still wallowing in utter grief. His only consolence was  
the knowledge that his mother was at last out of her pain.  
  
A slender figure stood in the back doorway, looking at the King as he approached.   
She wore a silken robe, that flowed in the wind that had begun to whip through the  
courtyard. It made her seem almost as if she was a ghost, and not Thomas' beloved wife.   
Yet, the sight of her, and the concern that was plastered in her lovely face, caused some of  
his sadness to slip away.  
  
"Many of your counselors were searching for you. I figured that I could find you  
out here," Lily stated and then offered Thomas a struggled smile.  
  
Thomas stopped in front of her, watching the way the silken robe drifted about her  
body. She truly seemed to be an angel, come down from heaven to console his broken  
heart. Thomas took his wife into his arms and laid his head against her shoulder, burying  
his face in her luxurious hair.  
  
"I have failed my father," Thomas moaned in desperation.  
  
Lily stroked his back and slowly led her husband into the safety of the castle, and  
away from the bad weather that was obviously on the way. It felt as if this could very well  
be a storm that would be considered the worst in the history of the Underground. Behind  
them lightening traced a path across the sky and thunder rolled shortly after.  
  
"He would be proud of you. We are all proud of you," she reminded and pulled  
herself out of the embrace.  
  
"My mother told me once that I had forgotten all Jareth ever told me, and what we  
had spoken about. Do you believe that I have failed that horridly? I remember him  
speaking about a tree in some desert land in the far distance," Thomas stopped with a  
shocked expression formed on his whitened face.  
  
The tree! That was what Jareth had said so many years before. He had spoken  
about a dead peach tree in the middle of desert lands, and the fruit that it had bore. Jareth  
had told Thomas to venture there sometime, and then he would understand what the story  
had meant. Now was the time he needed to leave, for now was when he doubted  
everything about himself, and the decisions he had made.  
  
Lilly looked at him with the beginnings of fear embedded deep within her eyes.   
She tried to grab ahold of his sleeve, perhaps in understanding of what he meant to do.   
However, Thomas was too quick. He was soon free from her grasp and rushing down the  
hallways. He offered his wife a single glance back and waved. Lilly could only return the  
gesture, and pray that he would not get himself killed.  
  
* * * * * * * *  
  
He rode through the raging wind, and past sparks that were sprayed across the  
trail, as lightning hit a nearby tree. The thunder sounded relentlessly, and more than once  
his horse lost its nerve and reared in protest of being out in such a storm as was coming to  
the Underground.   
  
Thomas only urged the steed forward, trying to hold back the anxiety that  
threatened to burst over in his soul. He knew what he had to see, and what it would mean  
for his entire life. Everything else did not matter. The storm could have very well swept  
him up inside of it, and still the young King would have continued on with his journey to  
the lands about which his father had spoken.  
  
Now the trees grew sparse, and he could see the sand covering the ground, where  
once emerald grass had grown to knee-level. He could see the shimmering crystal dust,  
that Jareth had witnessed when he had been young. This was the place that held the  
answer, and he could only wish that the answer would be for his benifit.  
  
"Easy," Thomas called as the horse reared wildly into the air in reaction to the  
stormy weather.  
  
He steadied the frightened animal and finally leapt down to the ground. The  
steed's eyes rolled about, searching the blowing bushes for potential predators. Thomas  
merely stroked the horse's nose and took a firm grip on the reins. He would need the  
animal, for Thomas had never mastered the technique of transforming into the owl, or  
simply appearing in specified areas. Jareth had not had enough time to teach all about the  
Underground magic, for there was much more that the young king had needed to know.  
  
The final tree passed by, and Thomas was left surrounded only by shimmering sand  
for miles and miles, as far as the eyes could see. Just behind him was the forest, perhaps  
frightened to enter these deserted lands.   
  
His entire spirit drooped at the sight of the nothingness. It was much the same as  
his father, when Jareth had originally beheld this desolate area. He had hoped for a sign,  
an omen of sorts that things would eventually start seeming a little more hopeful.   
However, there was only despair, and more sadness to greet his already depressed and  
greivious mood.  
  
Thomas very nearly remounted at that time, to put this whole silly idea behind him,  
yet something caught his eye. The King stopped, still ready to leave and not dissapoint  
himself to a greater extent, but could not push aside the gnawing curiousity that rose  
within himself. He whipped around and squinted into the darkness to see what had shown  
itself for only a brief time.  
  
A flash of lightning cut across the dark forboding skies overhead, and lit the desert  
with an eerie white illumination. For only that moment, when the flash spread out across  
the land, Thomas saw it reflected on a tall object, placed further out in the dead lands. His  
heart beat sped up, and his stomach twisted about uncomfortably, as the possibilities laid  
themselves out.  
  
"Have I based my life on this one moment, whether I see what my Father spoke  
about or not?" Thomas thought to himself, as he urged his horse forward and closer to the  
strange object he had seen.  
  
The answer did not come, but the thing he had seen slowly grew with each  
approaching step he dared to take. Thomas paused as another trace of lightning shone  
down, and reflected with green intensity off of the something he now headed towards.   
Surely the green could only be one thing.  
  
He dropped the reins, entirely forgetting the horse who now was free and could  
easily rush home leaving Thomas out here to face the storm. However, that was the least  
of his worries, and the thought never once entered his mind. He sprinted on, fighting  
through the gusting wind that tore at his cape and tried to push him back.  
  
With a burst of energy he surged forward and fell to the ground, the sand biting  
into his palms of his hands with a fierce agony. Yet, the pain was not noticed, and would  
not be until much later. Instead he looked down at what laid directly before him. It was a  
simple dark root, jutting just slightly out of the sand, but was enough to tell him what was  
position directly overhead.  
  
Thomas turned his gaze upwards, and gasped in awe at the sight that he beheld.   
The King jumped to his feet and stood there, before the grand peach tree that had been  
growing for what seemed like centuries. It reached far into the sky, with emerald leaves  
adorning each branch, only broken by lush, ripe peaches.  
  
Thomas reached upwards with a shaking hand and gripped one of the fruits. It  
came off easily, and he gazed at the lovely thing with a sort of awe. It was so very simple,  
so easily overlooked, but it was the most beautiful sight he had seen for such a long time.   
Just to hold the peach, was like having a piece of his Father back, for Jareth had planted  
the seed that had grown into this magnificent tree.  
  
With great ease, Thomas pried the pit from the fruit, though it hurt him to toss the  
Peach to the ground. He found himself lacking any form of hunger, and knew that he  
would probably vomit if he attempted to eat the luscious fruit. Yet, he had other plans,  
and quickly bent down to the ground.  
  
"The end is only the beginning," Thomas whispered as he dug a hole in the sand.  
  
The mighty king looked at the insignificant peach pit for a short while longer,  
wondering how such massive life could come from a tiny thing such as the seed.   
However, that was the way life was, mysterious and filled with hundreds of questions.   
With that final thought Thomas placed the seed into the ground and covered it with the  
sand.  
  
A roar of thunder tore across the sky, and then the clouds opened. The rain  
poured down, relentlessly and attacking all the while. Thomas rose to his feet and turned  
his face to the sky, and the showering rain. It quickly soaked him to the bone, but he did  
not care.  
  
"I will remember always," Thomas said and then broke into tears, that soon  
formed into bouts of joyful laughter.  
  
* * * * * * * *  
So Thomas ruled the Underground for many years, and was considered a just and  
good King. Many loved him, and he kept peace during his entire rule. Lilly soon bore  
twins, one a boy and one a girl, which would be heirs to the throne. The kingdom rejoiced  
in that age, and found themselves in a rich time, filled with good crops and ample money.   
No one went hungry, and the homeless soon found themselves with shelter.  
  
One day Thomas' son did take over the throne, and his daughter recieved a portion  
of the kingdom in the far east, where she ruled for many years. However, that is another  
tale, for another time. Perhaps some day it will be told. Until then we can simply say that  
the story of the Underground has as many twists and turns as the great Labyrinth itself,  
and no one shall ever know all about it, for it is constantly changing, and we shall always  
have forever in these tales of fantasy and magic.  
  
The End 


End file.
